


Come As You Are

by le_chat_vilain



Series: In The Dark [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_chat_vilain/pseuds/le_chat_vilain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wayward and morally questionable Terran finds herself on the Dark Aster at the mercy of Ronan himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come As You Are

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a request from my fellow Lee Pace fans for some Ronan smut, but no smut YET guys, gotta build it up. I feel like Ronan would try and exercise some control until it gets to the point he just snaps. A friend of mine named this OC because I’m terrible at names lol Another thing - this ain’t no love story. It’s not gonna be so get used to the idea. 
> 
> Soundtrack: Come As You Are by Nirvana

The last thing she remembered was leaving Tivan’s on Knowhere. Now she stood before him in chains, the sinking feeling in her stomach telling her she’d fucked up yet again.

She had heard of him of course, who hadn’t? Ronan the Accuser, lunatic, sociopath, and all round epic asshole. Even sitting on the stone throne in front of her she could tell the Kree was a giant of a man. He was regarding her with suspicion and curiosity, and a gratuitous sprinkling of malice for good measure, though she figured that in that get up anyone would look fairly malicious.

“Is this the Terran from Knowhere?” he asked a thin, bald woman, with blue skin and some bionic extras; Nebula. His voice was deep and commanding, and if she was honest with herself she was thoroughly impressed by it.

“Yes. We apprehended her leaving Tivan’s with this,” Nebula handed Ronan the map that The Collector had given her. Ronan studied it in silence for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet hers.

“Tell me, Terran,” he began, rising from his seat and stepping towards her, war hammer in hand. “What does this lead to?”

_Here we go, time for the Kree Inquisition…_

“A planet, obviously,” she sassed, words thick with condescension. She watched his jaw clench as he attempted to hide how affronted he was by her sarcasm.

“And what is on this planet that you wish to find exactly?” he snarled.

“Something that will hopefully make me very rich,” came her response, this time with tones of exasperation and annoyance. All she knew was that the map led to Morag, and on Morag was something extremely valuable to The Collector. “Look, buddy, I just wanna get rich or die trying as they say. Since we all know it’s gonna be the latter, why don’t we just skip the formalities and get right to the part where you kill me.”

His eyes narrowed and she could just see his brow furrow underneath all that black war paint. He stared at her with concentrated fury for what felt like an eternity, and she started to severely regret giving him that kind of lip.

“Leave us,” he commanded with a tilt of his head and a surprisingly non-menacing tone. She followed his gaze as he watched Nebula and the guards leave the room, the door sealing with a swoosh and a click. This was it. She was going to die alone at the hands of a mad man, light years away from home, and nobody was going to give a shit. Why should they? She didn’t even care herself. Resigned to her fate, she turned her head back to find him standing right in front of her, barely three feet away, head cocked to the side just staring, puzzled.

“You do not fear death?” he questioned, as though the notion or even the possibility was completely foreign.

“What’s the matter? Can’t get it up unless I do?” came her reply as she nodded at the weapon in his hand. In for a penny in for a pound. He continued to stare at her clearly not accepting that as an answer. She heaved a sigh, if this was the end she might as well admit it. “I don’t tend to fear much…except having to go on living.”

Her brown eyes looked right into his violet ones when she said it, almost begging him to release her from the bane of her existence. It was probably the most honest she’d ever been with anyone in her life, but better late than never. He stepped closer to her again, raising his hand to wrap his fingers around her throat in a strangely gentle way. She closed her eyes and waited for him to squeeze, but he never did. He withdrew, looking at his own palm briefly before curling it into a fist as he began to circle her. The look that flashed cross his face in those few seconds was peculiar, innocent even, a look that didn’t sit well on him and yet was disarmingly sincere in its nature.

“You don’t fear me either,” he stated with surprise and intrigue. An observation this time as opposed to another question.

“Should I?” she asked apathetically, knowing full well anyone in their right mind would.

“Yes,” he whispered in her ear from behind, his voice deep and intense. A slight shiver rippled through her body at his closeness, she could feel his breath on her neck. Yet still she wasn’t afraid, just impatient. He lingered there for a moment in silence before drawing a sharp breath and coming back to stand in front of her, still uncomfortably close. Taking her jaw in his hand, he turned her head slowly from side to side, examining her as though she were a weapon or a gadget of some kind. “Tell me your name, Terran.”

“Victoria. Victoria King.”

***

Who was this strange woman? A Terran with no fear, surely such a thing could not be true. Yet he had felt it for himself, her pulse remained steady even with his hand at her throat. Then there was the way she looked at him, dark eyes like pools of torment and misery, hooking his soul into their depths as though he were a piece of metal under the sway of a magnet. Not only did she not fear death, she welcomed it. She was strikingly attractive in a hardened, tragic way, and she radiated otherworldliness from the tips of her short blonde hair to the soles of her boots. She was a catastrophically broken creature, and never had he met such a singular being in this entire galaxy; fascinating did not even begin to describe her.

“Tell me, Victoria King, who are you?” he queried, releasing her from his grasp as he felt another strange jolt race up his arm. Surely she could not be any regular human.

“I can be whoever you want me to be, big guy,” she crooned as melancholy registered in her eyes before they rolled away briefly and returned to meet his once more. “…but really, I’m nobody.”

Impossible. Surely she was lying. 

“Who are you?” The words shocked him out of his pensiveness with both their strangeness and their suddenness.

“You know who I am.”

“Ronan the Accuser, yeah, I know that part, but who are you really? Come on, humour me, think of it as my last request.” Those eyes again, he could feel them sucking him in, and he found himself gaping at her audacity. He didn’t even know how to answer that question himself. “You put on a good show, you serve some serious Darth Vader realness, I’ll give you that…but do you wanna know what I really see?”

“Enlighten me,” he suggested, still staring at her, marveling at the way she was completely unperturbed by his doing so. She was an absolute conundrum, nobody had ever been so fearless before him except Thanos himself. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck her brains out or crack her skull open and see what was inside.

“I see a scared, sad, lonely, little boy, lashing out at the world and hating on everyone else so he doesn’t have to admit how much he really hates himself,” she said. The brazen arrogance that she projected softened, melting into a confronting blend of pity and knowing. He felt anger begin to surge inside him, but it quelled when her expression shifted to one of reassurance, acceptance even.

“Is that so? Tell me then, Victoria, how do you think you know that about me?” he demanded of her in a low, intense voice.

“On Earth, I was a psychiatrist and a damn good one, it was my job to be able see through a person, to get inside their head and see what makes them tick,” she began, “but with you…I guess you could say it takes one to know one. We all know it when we meet someone who’s the same shade of fucked up as we are.”

***

_You’re just like me, big guy. Six ways from Sunday._

He moved in closer again, still staring at her with those glowing purple eyes. She tried to look away but she simply couldn’t, there was something keeping her there, holding her attention with an iron grip. Soon he was so close she had to tilt her head back to look at him, and he was looming over her like the specter of death he likely was. His breathing had quickened and his lips had slightly parted, and she felt her body responding in kind. She could see all the contours of his face now, and there was something alarmingly attractive about him. Maybe it was the power he wielded, maybe it was her body wanting one last throw down before the end, she didn’t know. Biting her lip, she swallowed hard, certain that any second now it would all be over anyway.

“You think we are alike, you and I?”

“Oh, I know we are. We’re both just pissed off, lonely, bitter kids with big vendettas and something to prove. Only I’m what happens once we get what we want. I’m you once this bullshit’s all over. Still lost, still broken, still hating myself. Just like you’re gonna be,” she laughed half heartedly as she spoke but there was still venom in her tone; she was speaking more to herself than to him.

“Never has anyone spoken to me with such petulance and lived,” he murmured, stooping down to pour the words in her ear. Her skin felt as thought it was tingling with his closeness, as though there was electricity in the sliver of space left between them. She heard him inhale a raspy breath and rest the great hammer in his hand on the floor. Strong hands reached down and broke the chains binding her, the sound of them hitting the stone echoing throughout the vast space.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he warned.

“You won’t,” she said turning to face him, barely an inch left between them. She found herself fighting the primal urge to close that inch. It would be so easy. Would he change his mind if she did? With any luck he would, so she leant in closer, letting her lips brush his cheek when she spoke: “but I might.”

To her shock, he turned, his lips skimming hers and hovering there, touching so lightly you’d need a magnifying glass to see it. She watched as his eyes dropped to her mouth, the pair of them standing there in silence broken only by the sound of their own breathing intensifying.

“Get out,” he growled, and she backed away from him with caution before turning towards the door, wondering what the fuck had just happened. “And Victoria?”

“What?” she snapped, peering over her shoulder to see him pick up his weapon once more.

“I said you could live, not that you could leave. Congratulations, you are my newest advisor. I’ll expect your presence in my quarters at 1500hrs.”

_Well, fuck._


End file.
